


The Love That I Have, Of The Life That I have, Is Yours, And Yours, And Yours

by Flutterbye_5



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Cute boys kissing, Fluff, Multi, POV Second Person, Post CA:TWS, Super Soldiers in Love, because i love it and want to bring it back, cute girls kissing, cute lesbian couple, help me out guys, i love "ands" okay, i'd like to describe my writing style as too many commas too many "ands" and lots of run ons, it's mentioned in the past, mild and brief homophobic language, my teeth are rotten, overuse of the phrase "sweet on you", poetry because i love it so much, pure fluff, reference to period typical homophobia of the mid twentieth century, steve and bucky are a little broken but that's okay, steve finds a label that fits, the title is from "The Life That I Have" by leo marks and it's one of my absolute favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutterbye_5/pseuds/Flutterbye_5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <em>The life that I have</em></p><div class="center"><em>

<div class="center">
<p>Is all that I have</p>

<div class="center">

<div class="center">
<p>And the life that I have</p>
<div class="center">

<div class="center"><p>Is yours</p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</em></div><p></p>
</div>You see them kissing two blocks away from the Tower, bathed in sunlight and dust specks. They are laughing into each other's mouths, and the one with curly hair and freckles smears purple lipstick on the cool pink of the other girl's upper lip. You are enthralled.<div class="center">
  <p>Or</p>
</div><p>
Steve learns a few things about the twenty-first century, and a little about himself.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love That I Have, Of The Life That I have, Is Yours, And Yours, And Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the idea of Steve seeing that being LGBT+ is okay by seeing two girls being in love. It's cute because I like cute things and I don't have the energy for sad. Enjoy the fluff.

You see them kissing two blocks away from the Tower, bathed in sunlight and dust specks. They are laughing into each other's mouths, and the one with curly hair and freckles smears purple lipstick on the cool pink of the other girl's upper lip. You are enthralled. You are filled with momentary wonder, light blooming in your chest like a wildflower in May. Then reality hits you.

You look around, anxiety and fear beating violently in your chest, and for a moment you feel dizzy.  _ No one look _ , you beg silently,  _ let them have this _ . But some people do look, giving them a fleeting glance and a smile, and you are left confused. You are frozen there, a reusable grocery bag hanging loosely from your fingers, and all of a sudden the wonder is back, and you are full of joy and relief and  _ ache _ . 

They catch you, their eyes flitting over your face, somehow piercing your soul. The one with skin like Sam's smiles at you, then at the girl beside her, and she looks so  _ sweet  _ on her, all doe eyes and love and trust. She waves, and after a moment you wave back. 

She beckons you over and says,  _ I wrote my thesis paper on you _ . And you're struck again by the  _ weirdness _ of living in a different time. 

_ Oh? _ you ask, but you're not quite interested. You have something else on your mind. 

Then she says, _ yes _ , and smiles again, and continues,  _ on the psychological consequences of being used as war propaganda and the struggles of being bisexual in the mid-twentieth century.  _

"What?" And it's all you can say. 

The girl beside her smacks her arm lightly. "Cath," she scolds, and looks at you apologetically. "I'm sorry about her," she turns her gaze on Cath and glares. "My girlfriend here has a habit of speaking before thinking." 

You are silent for a moment, wondering,  _ what does that even mean? _ But you smile politely, and say, "It's alright, she said nothing wrong. Now, tell me about this paper?" 

That's how you spend the next two hours, with Cath and  _ Gemma _ , as you soon learn is the other girl's name, Cath pulling out this little thing small enough for you to crush between your fingers, and soon you are scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, reading and reading, and you are late for a meeting but you don't  _ care _ . 

"Is that what that word means?" 

Cath looks at you and Gemma raises her eyes up from her book, and they ask at the same time, "What word?" 

"Bi-sexual," you read, enunciating the syllables carefully. "Liking guys and girls?"

You have a word, and it means something, something real, and something inside of you welcomes it, lets it settle in your chest and take root. You think,  _ there’s a word for it _ . 

“Yup!” And Gemma looks at you with an understanding so deep you  _ feel _ it, like a buzz beneath your skin or a punch to the jaw. “There are lots of words that mean stuff like that,” she continues and the only thing you can do is breathe,  _ tell me _ . 

And she does.

 

* * *

 

By the time you are done, you have words like  _ pansexual  _ and  _ asexual _ and  _ transgender _ ,  _ gay _ and  _ lesbian _ , and their names and phone numbers saved to your phone like a prayer. You have more now than you think you ever did, more than  _ fucking queer _ and  _ what are you, a fairy? _

More than a quiet ache and a dream of something beyond a broken down apartment facing the back gutters and wanting to touch but always stopping yourself short. 

You feel light. You think,  _ everything is different now. _

Bucky is there when you get back, three hours late and a jug of tepid milk thumping gently on your thigh. He is worried. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” He snarls, and guilt hits you square in the chest. You should have called, but you were so caught up in the  _ new _ , that you forgot that you had texted  _ almost home _ three hours ago. 

“I’m sorry Buck,” and you are. “I met these girls, and you’ll never believe -- you can date whoever you want now!” 

Bucky looks at you, and for a moment you feel unsure. His violent worry has simmered to a quiet anxiousness, and guilt steals your words.

“Yeah,” he drawls, reaching out and lifting the green bag from your arms, the cool metal links of his hand slipping past your fingers. “Sam is dating that dame from Japan, remember?” 

You shake your head. 

“No, no,” you urge, following closely behind as he puts the milk in the fridge, sniffing it and shrugging, hoping the heat didn’t make it go bad. You wrinkle your nose and vow to get another jug, just in case. “I mean, you can date  _ anyone _ you want, dames  _ or _ guys.”

Bucky pauses, and you suddenly worry that you’ve made a mistake. Buck is from the thirties and forties, same as you, and you  _ know _ he knew all about you, but you never talked about it, not really. 

“You’re telling me,” Bucky starts, turning slowly until you’re chest to chest with him, his head tilting back just a little so he can look you in the eyes. “That I can be sweet on a fella if I’d like?” 

You feel like an idiot. 

“‘Course,” you stutter, something like anticipation blooming in your chest.

“And if I were sweet on a fella, what would you say?” His voice is deep and warm and you are reminded of sleep-addled whispers right before dawn and laughter over twenty-cent coffee. You are reminded of long before the war when your body creaked like ancient floorboards and your chest rattled like windchimes. You are reminded of firm wrist slaps and a scolding nun’s glare. The nostalgia grips you tight and urges you closer, until your nose is not quite touching his, but close. 

“I’d,” and you take a breath, steeling yourself because many see you as Captain America, fearful of nothing, but inside you are still little Stevie Rogers, brave but still just a little scared. “I’d say that I’ve been sweet on a fella more than half my life.”

You look at each other for a few moments, taking it all in. The fridge is still open, and any other time you would have scolded him for it, but now you are hopeful and consumed by the strength of his hold on you and you want to kiss him. 

“Really?” And Bucky is smiling in a way you haven’t seen in what felt like an eternity. His mouth is soft and his eyes are sparkling and you are so  _ thankful _ for all that you have, for the life you were given, because now you have him, and you are both just a little broken but all your jagged edges seem to just slot right in with his and you  _ fit _ . “I’m just the same. Any chance I’ll get a hint?” 

You feel daring. You want to step closer but there’s no more room. You want to curl up in his chest and never leave. You want to kiss him. You feel daring. 

You kiss him. 

It is nothing like you have imagined. It is soft, and searching, and just a little unsure. You thought it would be hard. Sloppy. Something that would happen in a fit of violent emotion and gunfire. But no. It is soft. He tastes like Brooklyn, and home, and safety. You will never say that out loud. 

He pulls away and you look at him. You never want to look away. You think he feels the same because he is holding you like he does not know how to let go and his eyes roam your face in a way that makes you feel  _ loved _ . 

“I’ve been sweet on a fella more than half my life,” he says, and you want to laugh. “I’ve been sweet on him longer than I’d like to admit, and I was scared but now I’m not.” 

You raise your hand to cradle his face. There is three-day-old stubble on his cheek and you let your thumb rub against the grain. You are clean shaven and you wonder what it would feel like on your bare jaw. There is a certain kind of satisfaction in knowing that you are allowed to find out. 

“I want everyone to know that I’m sweet on you,” you blurt, and a warm flush rushes to your cheeks. But he is smiling like he was thinking the exact same thing and he nods. 

“I want everyone to know, too.”    



End file.
